


Chantry Boys

by Badlemur



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Breaking Celibacy Vows, Chantry, F/M, Grey Wardens, Hero of Ferelden - Freeform, Kissing in the Rain, Romance, Sexual Content, Templars, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vows, champion of kirkwall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badlemur/pseuds/Badlemur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chantry boys. We all love them. Or love corrupting them, anyway. What happens when the commander of the Feraldon grey wardens is sent to Kirkwall on a mission for Weisshaupt? Passing by the Amell estate to introduce herself to her Hawke cousins, she learns the person she needs to speak to (Meredith) doesn't let anyone near her without a certain knight captain vetting them first. And poor Hawke. Chantry life is not something she wants anything to do with. Then why did the only man that makes her sweat have to take vows of celibacy? </p><p>What are two mage cousins supposed to do?</p><p>Things get complicated and suddenly all four of them end up on a mission to the deep roads. All alone. Poor dears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in Fair Kirkwall, where we Lay our Scene

**Author's Note:**

> This story stems from my other fic, The Inquisitor's Secret, which is here and still unfinished. I sent a friend a part I had written with Amell and Cullen and she said it was so sad. So I decided to give them a happy (???) ending. All in her honor. Hawke and Sebastian were just an idea I couldn't pass up. Let me know what you think!
> 
> And as always, remember I ma dyslexic. Let me know if I flub something up so I can fix it. Thanks!

It was just another day in Kirkwall’s Hightown. Nothing too exciting had happened. Leandra had plans for tea with friends in the afternoon, and Hawke was going to pass by the Hanged Man a little later and let Varric buy her a drink. It’s the least he could do for all the embellishing he did when he told stories of their adventures.  
So with nothing more important to do, she and her mother were going about their morning chores when she heard Bohdan knock on her mother’s door.  
“Mistress Hawke, there’s a visitor to see you. And you wont believe who it is!”  
“Is something the matter? Should we call the guard?” Leandra was concerned over the excitement in the dwarf’s voice.  
“Not at all, Mistress!” He cried. “Why, it’s the Hero of Fereldon, it is! We travelled together for a time, during the blight.”  
“The Hero of Ferelden?” The worry didn't leave Leandra’s voice. “Oh, I hope nothing has happened to Carver.”  
Hawke followed after her as she rushed down the stairs. She didn't think the Hero of Ferelden would come all the way from Amaranthine to deliver bad news to another warden’s family, but Hawke was the Champion of Kirkwall. It did little good to panic before knowing what she was doing here.  
Amell stood still in the entryway of Hawke’s home, staring into the fire as her mabari war hound sat proudly by her booted feet. She had been so surprised to see Bodhan open the door that she had been struck speechless, though she had been so very happy to see him. And equally delighted to see Sandal in attendance as well. The young dwarf had given her a fierce hug, which she returned, and then had done the same to Duncan. Her Mabari had been been quite pleased with the attention.  
She did not relish the job she had been sent to do in Kirkwall. But Weisshaupt had deemed that she was the only one who could carry out this matter. As she was Fereldan and many of the mages that ended up in the Gallows had been those fleeing because of the blight. The wardens wanted to know if they could recruit a few mages to bolster their numbers in Ferelden. As well as any other refugee that may want to exchange their service for a trip home.  
As warden commander she didn't really want to pressure anyone into the joining unless they truly wanted to serve, or becoming a warden was less of a nightmare than what their current lives afforded them. It wasn't a pleasant task, overall. And even less in Kirkwall. For many reasons.  
She turned as Leandra made her way down the stair case, her fingers clenched firmly, knuckles white with worry.  
Amell bowed her head as she approached. She noticed that another lady hung back, still on the stairs. But watching with sharp eyes. The Champion of Kirkwall, no doubt. “Lady Leandra, I presume?”  
“Yes.” It was obvious she was worried. “Please, is this about Carver?” she asked hurriedly.  
Amell smiled reassuringly. “Not at all, madame. From what I hear Carver is quite well.” She watched Leandra breathe a sigh of relief. “I simply wanted to call on my cousins while I was in Kirkwall. My name is Diviania Amell, Arlessa of Amaranthine and commander of the Feralden grey wardens.”  
“And the hero of Feralden,” Hawke said, walking the rest of the way down the stairs and toward the two other women.  
“I have been known as such, yes. To my embarrassment. And you are the champion of Kirkwall, are you not?”  
Hawke grinned. “And your cousin, apparently!” They clasped hands in greeting, and Lenadra gave Amell a small hug.  
“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Diviania,” Hawke’s mother said with a warm smile.  
Amell laughed. “Oh, please don't call me that! My mother was trying too hard when she named me. Too many vowels. I’ve been Amell for quite some time.”  
“Just like my daughter, it would seem. Doesn't want to use her proper name because she says no one will take her seriously. And it’s such a lovely name. Lisanna.”  
“Ah.” Amell saw Hawke wince and understood completely.  
Leandra reached out and gently embraced Amell. “It is good to know that we have more family. Come in and join us for lunch. And I want to know how long you’ll be here and I’m going to insist you stay with us.”  
Hawke laughed wholeheartedly as their cousin was dragged along by her mother into the dining room with a horrified look on her face. Welcome to the family, cuz.

*  
It was later that day that, when they had been able to escape Leandra, that Hawke took Amell to the only place she knew they would be left alone. The Hanged Man. A little early for drinks with Varric, she knew Amell had been skirting around the questions her mother had asked about what she was doing in Kirkwall. And even though she appreciated the fact that she was sparing her mother details that might worry her, Hawke wanted to know just exactly what Amell was doing there.  
As soon as they were seated in a dark corner, Hawke attacked. “What are you doing here and what is that you want? The grey wardens avoid Kirkwall like the plague and wouldn't go farther than the coast in search of darkspawn. So spill.”  
“You are shrewd.”  
“And nosey. So satisfy my curiosity.”  
Amell leaned back in her chair and took a swig from her mug. “Well, I suppose I could tell you. In exchange for some help.”  
“Ah, terms. And with family? You really are one of us, aren't you?”  
Her grin was lopsided. Much like Hawke’s. “I need a little help with the templars here, and I hear you’ve had dealing with them.”  
“Do tell.”  
“Weisshaupt wants more wardens in Feralden. And they would prefer Feralden wardens. Thus they decided that I should come and seek out those that would be suitable from the refugees. All of the refugees.”  
“Ah.”  
“Yes. ‘Ah.’”  
“Meredith will not easily hand over any mage in her grasp. She's most paranoid about blood magic and demons. And she's become worse lately. I don't think the Qunari incident helped. And now that she's taken on the duties of the viscount, things have just gotten worse.”  
“How can the chantry allow that to happen? Isn't it a part of their vows to not reach for any glory the Maker does not give them? How can she sit in the viscount’s seat without the grand cleric putting her foot down?”  
“Elthina is a good woman. But I have no idea what is happening in her brain. She leaves it as if the Maker himself will swoop down and fix things without her interference. Which is a disservice to mage and templar, alike.”  
“Fantastic. You're just bolstering my self confidence on this endeavor, cousin.” Amell laughed. Better that than to cry.  
“I think we should approach Cullen first, then. He’s a bit of a stick in the mud, but he’s more reasonable.”  
Amell’s eyes narrowed, a frown forming between her brows. “Cullen?” She practically bit out the word. Hawke was intrigued by the reaction, to say the least.  
“Yes. He’s Fereldan. Probably one of the only reasons I can stand him. He's a templar at the Gallows. Meredith’s right hand man, really. He’s helped me with her on a few occasions. And I think he’s realizing what a nutbag she’s turned into. Every time I see him he has this weary, almost embarrassed look on his face.” Hawke had to stop talking because she thought her cousin might pass out. Wondering what had come over her, she forced her to drink up the rest of her ale and clapped her on the back when she choked. Then she remembered something Cullen had said years ago, when they have first met.  
I knew an Amell, once. She was a special woman. Never met her like again…  
He had said it so softly, with so much feeling. She had barely registered it. But now, perhaps, it was the most telling of statements.  
“You were lovers,” she accused her cousin and watched her choke again. On air.  
“No!” Amell was blushing so badly her freckles were changing color. “We know each other from the circle tower in Ferelden, from before I became a warden. He was at my harrowing.” She cleared her throat. “And, well, maybe there had been a bit of an infatuation there, but we never acted on it. But that was years ago.”  
“Is that why you are blushing so much?”  
Amell’s gloved hands flew her to her warm cheeks, as if she could hide the evidence of her reaction with pure will. In the end she only laughed and dropped her hands, giving in. “You want to hear about it, don't you?”  
“Oh, only every little detail.”  
She sighed. “Very well.” Amell settled in to tell her story. “I was seventeen when Duncan came to take me to the wardens. By then I had known Cullen for about a year. He had just taken his vows and was trying to accustom himself to the serious endeavor of guarding such dangerous charges.” Sarcasm. “Only we weren’t very dangerous. Not initially. There was some dissent among the ranks, but for the most part we didn't really have that much of a problem with our templars.” A shadow passed over her features for a moment. “Many of the templars that died there had been my friends. I still hurt for them. Good people serving an ideal they believed in.”  
Hawke nodded in understanding. Kirkwall did not boast many good people, but some of the very few she had met were indeed templars that just wanted to serve and protect. They too had not met a very good end.  
“Cullen was assigned to look after me, so to speak, in certain situations. If I would go outside the tower to get herbs or magical supplies, which was rare. Or when it was my turn to look after the children. Simple day chores. We didn't speak often, but I was to be his first harrowing. So they wanted him to know what it was like to be familiar with a person that had the potential to turn into a demon. I knew this. But I was such a silly girl. The sight of him in his gleaming armor put stars in my eyes.” Amell laughed at herself. “But then Duncan came and I had to leave. I only saw him once more, when the tower fell to blood mages. That was… heartbreaking, actually. They had tortured him. With a shade of me. The one thing he had wanted but could never have. Suffice it to say, young love does not survive demonic torture.”  
Hawke grimaced. Damn. “That story would have been more satisfying if there had been indiscriminate love making in darkened corners.”  
Amell’s chin sank into her palm as she rested her elbow on the table in a depressed manner. “No kidding!”  
Hawke patted her on the shoulder. “So, I see your dilemma. I will go with you in the morning to see Cullen. Partly because I want to support my sweet cousin through her trying ordeal.” She grinned, full of teeth. “But mostly because I want to see the look on Cullen’s face when he sees you again.”  
Amell rolled her eyes and said, “Thanks.” Her tone was so sarcastic she could've given Hawke a run for her money.  
Just then Varric walked up to them, and the rest of the night was spent in a pursuit to get as drunk as possible.


	2. The Fire-Eyed Maid of Smoky War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna get to the good parts soon, lol. I needed to write a proper intro to the story or I would have felt like I didn't do a good enough job. The next chapter will set up their journey and focus more on the boys themselves. As it is, I hope the story portion is as interesting as the fluff and etc the rest of the work will contain. This is a lot of work for something I wanted to keep small! lmao :D

“How are you not hung over?” Hawke groused, squinting through the morning light.  
Amell laughed. “Wardens have hearty constitutions. Part of the job requirements.”  
It was early morning and they were making their way to the Gallows. Hawke had gotten a bit carried away the night before and was paying the price for it. But she wasn't so far gone that she didn't notice the disgustingly healthy state of her distant kin. It galled. But that was probably the hangover reacting emotionally, as it was wont to do.  
But even through her discomfort, she could see how nervous Amell was. She had drawn her blue hood over her dark hair and was holding her mage’s staff in her hands instead of carrying it on her back. The griffon on her chest gleamed brightly, as did her mages battle armor. The blues of her coat and leggings were a bit faded, but she still looked well put together and competent. Except for the death grip on her weapon and the wide eyed worry of a person walking into a battle they were most likely not going to win. Hawke felt a bit bad for her, but the idea of watching Cullen’s reaction to seeing Amell again was too delicious to resist. And helped the hangover to be more bearable.  
In no time at all they had reached the courtyard of the Gallows and Amell stopped short. Standing to one side, speaking to templar recruits, was the man of interest himself.  
“Oh,” Amell said in a small voice. “Oh…”  
Hawke didn't blame her. Over the years he had changed from a gaunt boy into a rather good looking man, That filled out a suit of armor like he had been born to it. With his height, rugged features, and the gold of his hair, he seemed rather dashing.  
“Are you ready for this?”  
Amell turned helpless eyes toward her. “Do I have a choice?” Her voice broke a little with her nervousness.  
“Nope!” exclaimed Hawke as she grabbed her cousin’s arm firmly and yanked her along with her right to their unsuspecting target. Amell’s sound of distress only made Hawke more determined.  
“Cullen!” She flagged him down briskly. “I have a grey warden here that needs to speak to Meredith.”  
“Grey warden?” Cullen turned toward the approaching pair with a slight frown of interest furrowing is brow. Then as if remembering he was supposed to have manners, even with Hawke, he inclined his head. “Hello, Champion.” Though his honey gold eyes were still narrowed in slight annoyance.  
“I’m afraid that Meredith doesn't wish to be bothered right now. She has some very important things to deal with at the moment.” His tone was harried, but not unkind. He turned to the hooded grey warden and bowed his head a little in respect. “I am knight captain Cullen. I assist Meredith. Perhaps you can tell me what it is you need and I might be able to see what I can do to help.”  
Amell stood in silence for a moment, making Cullen’s frown deepen, then reluctantly pulled back her hood. And Hawke had the singularly pleasing sight of watching all the blood drain right out of the templar’s face.  
“Maker…” His voice was barely audible. “Amell.”  
Her voice was just as soft as his. “Hello, Cullen.” A slight blush stained her beauty into a rosier hue. Strands of dark hair blew across her face in a gentle breeze. Even her lips were blushing. She looked absolutely lovely. And it was evident that the knight captain was having a hard time processing the fact that she was real.  
Her eyes, green and gold ringed in gray, lifted to his. “It’s good to see you, Cullen. I hope you've been well. I… I’m sorry for surprising you with my presence. I didn't know you were in Kirkwall.”  
Cullen opened his mouth and no sound issued from it, his hand going to the back of his neck in his usual nervous gesture. He had to clear his throat before actually speaking. “Amell. Maker. It is so good to see you well.”  
“It is?” she said, unsurely. “You didn't seem very happy to see me the last time we met.”  
He cleared his throat again, a sheepish look on his face. “Yes. Well, I was being a huge ass. An ungrateful one at that. I’ve always wanted to apologize about that.”  
Amell’s answering smile was radiant. “Of course, Cullen. No need to apologize. I completely understand.” She lived that nightmare constantly in her own life. A warden was never far from the nightmares behind their eyes. If she knew anything about trauma, he had some experience with that as well. “I was just so relieved to have gotten to you in time.” She lowered her voice and took a small step closer to him. “I wish I could've done more, though.”  
Hawke stood to the side, staring. Never in the six years she had known Cullen did she know the man could look like that. They were staring at each other like lovesick puppies. It was rather nauseating, truth be told. But familial bonds also made her rather pleased for her cousin. So the idiot did know what a girl was, after all. Life just kept giving her little gifts. She would never forget this moment. Or let either of them forget it either.  
“Perhaps we could take this inside before all the recruits start tripping over their eyeballs?”  
They both blinked and turned toward Hawke’s voice.  
“Of course.” Cullen was suddenly eager to get back to his office. “Please come this way, ladies.”  
Cullen’s office was Meredith’s old office, across from Orsino. It was rather disturbing that Meredith could just move into he viscount’s office without one ill word from the chantry. Kirkwall was indeed a terrifying place. And Amell’s dislike for the place, and the woman, grew even more when she saw his reaction to why she had been sent to there.  
“Meredith will never allow any mage to leave the Gallows. Conscripted or otherwise.”  
“A templar may have the right to police mages within a circle, but they do not have the right to dictate to a grey warden. We have treaties with the chantry that state I can conscript who I please. Mage or otherwise.”  
“But isn't that only valid in the time of a blight?”  
“I may have ended the life of the creature who began the blight, but that does not mean the blight is over for Ferelden. The land is still poisoned. We still have raiding parties attacking homesteads and travelers. And for the entirety of the country I only had five wardens. One has died, another has left to find her clan, the other gave me his cat and disappeared. Which leaves me two wardens. Two.” Her voice was no longer that of a sweet girl. A commander she had been made, and a commander she had become. “Ferelden’s time of need has not ended, as of yet. And I need wardens to defend and help heal her. If Meredith wishes to test me on this, she will be left with a very bitter taste in her mouth.”  
Cullen looked a little lost. He knew what she said was right, and as a native Ferelden he felt that duty to his homeland burn within his chest. He had to do what he could to help. “I will speak to Meredith and explain the situation. I suggest that you speak the grand cleric.” He stood up from his desk and rested his gauntleted fist on a stack of paperwork. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”  
Amell rose to her feet in turn. “Thank you. I will.” And then she left his office, Hawke scrambling after her after giving Cullen a swift wink over her shoulder.

*

The warden commander was angry. Very, very angry. Truthfully, she shouldn't be. It was the hardest part of her job. Watching passively as things happened around her, not doing anything to help. The wardens were not political and did not align themselves with any monarchy. They were an independent body, governed by strict rules and only concerned with one thing. And no matter how much she kept repeating that to herself, she still couldn't ignore the madness around her. She was helpless to do anything about it. But she still saw it. And it grieved her.  
“Slow down! Do you even know where you're going?” Hawke reached and grabbed her arm.  
“No,” she said grimly. “I just wish to be away from this place.”  
Hawke nodded and led her away from the chains and the oppressive atmosphere. “We need to see the grand cleric. Maybe we can get Sebastian to help us.”  
“Who is Sebastian?”  
“I think the more fitting question would be who isn't he? Man wears more hats than I know what to do with.”  
The chantry in Kirkwall was rather grand. Even the chantry in Denim wasn't this fancy. Amell shivered when they entered. It struck her that for a city so full of danger and moral ambiguity, the chantry certainly spent more attention on grandstanding and pretty buildings than it did it’s own people. Many wardens were religious and found comfort in the chant of light. As a mage all she had really felt when hearing those damning words was suffocation and prejudice. And she had seen enough of her cousin’s reaction to know that Hawke felt the same way. Though, while as a warden she was in a position of protection form chantry law, Hawke was still an apostate playing a very dangerous game of hiding in plain sight. If not for her champion status and familial ties, Meredith would have made her tranquil long ago. That thought alone made the anger settle like glass shards into the pit of her stomach.  
“Elthina is up there,” Hawke said, pointing. “I think Sebastian is with her.”  
The dais was large and grand and utterly off putting. Gathering the calm warden persona she had crafted for herself, based off of how she remembered Duncan treating those in places of power. Polite. Harmless. Conciliatory.  
“Let’s go then. I hope they can truly help us.”  
In reality, Elthina was a kind and pleasant woman. She had a quick mind and understood exactly what Amell needed. She even agreed with her that it would be better for any refugees to be given the chance to go home and serve their homeland other than being stranded here in extreme poverty or locked away.  
Hawke had pulled Sebastian away while the grand cleric and warden spoke. Not far enough that they wouldn't hear what was being said, just enough so that she could speak to him about the issue without disturbing the two other women.  
“What do you think about this, Sebastian? About letting mages join the wardens?”  
“Elthina seems to think it’s a good-“  
“But what do you think?”  
“The chant of light states-  
She tugged on his arm. “But what do YOU think?” She saw the stubborn look in his ocean blue eyes and yanked harder. “Sebastian Vael, prince of Starkhaven. Not a chantry brother. What do you think?”  
She was always doing things like this. Forcing him to think like a prince instead of a member of the chantry. He knew that she thought he needed to go home and take up the responsibility of his position. And he knew she was right.  
“I think that what Weisshaupt is doing is very smart. Offering a return home and the knowledge that they will be cared for, after a fashion. It will embolden those too fearful of the templars to go, and awaken inside them a sense of loyalty.” He shrugged. “Along with the prospect of helping the country heal from the blight and becoming part of an ideal greater than yourself, I’d say we are lucky wardens aren't political.”  
Hawke’s smile was pleased. “Good boy,” she praised him. He merely rolled his eyes at her.  
Amell approached them. “Elthina has agreed to come with me to see Meredith. Would you like to come with us?” She smiled at her cousin. “You seem a bit invested in this now.”  
“Miss the opportunity to see Meredith put in her place? Do I look a daft fool?” She gestured at Sebastian. “He’s coming too.” “I am?”  
“Yes, Sebastian. Come with us.” Elthina’s calm voice washed over them. “You may be of some use.”


	3. Your Breathe First Kindled the Dead Coal of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this is deep roads! I'm writing the chapters as I'm posting them. So I'll fix anything I get wrong. Let me know how you think the story is progressing! It's going to get more romantical (is that a word?) from here on out.

Sebastian and Hawke could always find something to talk about. Debate over. Listening to her voice was one of his greatest pleasures, though he would never admit it. She always flirted with him in the most outrageous way possible, her joking and sarcastic nature delighting him in spite of himself. But he had just accepted that as part of her personality and didn't take it to heart. She only ever said outrageous things with a laugh and never actually tried to accost his person in any way. It was amusing. And truthfully, it was nice to be treated as one of her other companions instead of a brother of the chantry, apart from their friends.   
Aveline and Anders did so, though Anders with more contempt than Aveline. Merrill was terrified of him, though sweet. And Varric was very vocal about his pity for him, and all the living he’d given up to join the chantry. Fenris had been a surprising friend. Though his dark demeanor and obvious trauma was at times a bit disturbing to his peace of mind. And Isabela… Maker, that woman needed her glands checked.  
But Hawke had just arched a brow at him when he had told her he was a brother and sighed out the word ‘shame’ in such a way that he almost laughed. Then cheekily winked at him and left him alone. He still chuckled a little when he thought of it.   
Not to say she wasn't serious. He had seen her deep in thought, wrangling a problem with a keen mind to rival her sharp wit. The moments when she was serious were such a revelation. A glimpse into a piece of herself that no one really knew. That she never let anyone but those close to her ever see. She would talk to him about his home. He was the last surviving member of the royal family, and duty decreed that he leave the chantry and take his place as king. He was reluctant to do so because he had found such peace in his holy vows. After a lifetime of debauchery, the quiet and contemplative life of a brother soothed the ragged pieces of his heart. And when his family had been murdered, it had given him the comfort and solace he needed after his vengeance had been spent. But Hawke had also been there for him as well. Listening to his rants and patiently trying to steer him away from his anger. Suggesting, instead, the path of patient and deliberate responsibility.   
“Hawke,” he said quietly, as they made their way to the viscounts keep. “When we met and you killed those men that killed my family, why did you do it?”  
Those hazel green eyes rimmed in silver looked at him and her customary bored look melted away. “You mean, why did I help you with your vengeance when you are a brother and didn't encourage you to a more peaceful resolution with the men that killed your family?”  
“Yes.”  
She smiled sadly and said very clearly, “You should have seen what I did to the ogre that killed my sister.” And simply left it at that.   
And he finally understood something that had eluded him for years with abrupt clarity. Her family had been through the madness of the blight and had lost her little sister in a brutal and inhuman way. It had all broken them in some aspects. But Hawke had been in charge of the well being of her family. So when her sister died, she had failed. And the offense to her family could not go unpunished. And she had, sight unseen, read his plea for help in his pursuit of vengeance for his parents and brother and his brothers’ families and afforded his family the same importance she gave to her own. In a maddening way, it was the most amazing thing anyone had done for him.   
“Or perhaps I'm just a bloodthirsty and crazed mage.” Her smile was brilliant and she winked at him. Always that saucy wink, that made him want to laugh, no matter how inappropriate it was to wink at a brother. Though he could tell her levity was forced and it only made him hurt for her.  
As her companion, as her friend, he knew he could trust her. Could count on her. Whatever he had felt for the women in his past, she was something quite different. He didn't remember if any of those other women had been his friend. He sincerely doubted it, to his shame. But Hawke had been like a revelation to him. She had once told him she was glad he had taken his head out of his ass. Because it had been firmly shoved up there when they had first met. She had not been wrong. Somehow, he had found a way to reconcile the libertine and the monk. What he was now was a completely different animal altogether. After this was over, he wanted to talk to Hawke again. Talk about going back to Starkhaven. Fleetingly he wondered if he should ask her to go with him. But such a thing would most likely not happen.  
Amell and Elthina were speaking pleasantly about Amaranthine. Discussing warden duties, and Amell’s duties as an Arlessa. The king seemed to be a frequent visitor, to his uncle’s annoyance, it would seem. But she explained that Alistair was the other warden that helped end the blight and as such he still had a vested interest in the order on home soil. Sebastian had heard that the Ferelden king had been a warden. It always intrigued him, because the dilemma was the same as his. Stay true to your vows and give up your power, or take up the mantle and serve your people in a way that offered little personal peace.  
Hawke nudged Amell in the side. “So. You and the king? The only two wardens in the whole country, all alone. Fighting the good fight. All those long lonely nights…”  
“Hawke! What are you intimating? In front of the grand cleric, no less!” Amell looked mortified.   
“Yes, Hawke. What an inappropriate thing to bring up in front of her grace.” Sebastian came to the defense of the warden.  
Hawke pouted. “Fine.” She pointed at Amell. “But you are telling me everything later. And don't leave out a word.”   
“Fine, fine… shut up…”  
Elthina threw back her had and laughed.

*

Cullen had always been slightly uncomfortable around Meredith. Even when he had first come to the gallows with his trauma and anger in tow. She had latched onto his hatred for mages because of what happened at the circle tower and used it to her advantage, trying to groom him into her best ally. But with time and work, the haze had lifted somewhat. After a while he had started seeing her for what she really was. A scared woman that used her position to abuse innocent people. The threat of possession was a valid one, but to make a mage tranquil over letters? And all the other small infractions she used as excuses for blood magic. It was getting out of hand. He was grateful he had started coming back to his senses before she had started getting more paranoid. He could usually keep situations from escalating.  
Surprisingly enough, Hawke had helped his mental state as well. He hadn't realized she was a mage until after he had seen her fight the Arishock in an effort to save the city. And in that moment, when she had been defending everyone from a Qunari invasion, he had looked through the flames and madness and seen Amell in her place. Fighting monsters to free him, and everyone. He remembered her grim determination in the face of his unkind and unjust words and felt the shame of his weakness. In that moment, he had finally realized what he had done to her. And he never wanted to do that to anyone ever again. It had freed that burning anger from him.   
Part of him was grateful for his inability to see what Hawke had truly been until it was too late. He would have surely forced her into he gallows and she would have been subject to Meredith’s brand of punishment. Maker forgive him, he was so relieved he had not done that.   
He made his way passed the templars guarding the viscount’s office, into Meredith’s appropriated work space. She sat at the desk, reading a letter with a bold blue wax seal. He knew what that wax seal meant. Amell was not going to be happy about this.  
“Knight commander Meredith, I need to speak to you.”   
She motioned for him to approach. “If it is about the warden, I already know.” She threw the missive on her desk in disgust. “I will absolutely not allow it.”  
Of course she wouldn’t. He kept his face free of his thoughts, and utter contempt, of her. “We may have no choice but to comply. The treaties are clear.”  
“They may take whoever they like from Lowtown, or the prisons, or the chantry, but they will not take the mages.” Her tone was steel. “Bring this warden to me and I will tell them so. I absolutely refuse to allow them to take any mage, or even to have entrance to the gallows.”  
“He doesn't need to bring anyone, I am already here.” The voice was cool, controlled and calm. “And I am not alone.”  
He turned to see Amell enter the room, the grand cleric, Hawke, and Sebastian in tow. She approached the desk and looked Meredith right in the eye without flinching. Until she noticed the discarded missive on her desk. “What is that?” The anger now palpable in her voice. She snatched the document from the desk and held it out. “Did take and read a sealed letter belonging to the grey wardens without permission?”  
“I only did what was necessary to protect my city.” Meredith spoke with complete authority in her tone. As if she had the right to do as she liked and everyone should just fall in line without resisting.  
“Kirkwall is YOUR city now, is it? I wasn't aware templars could take positions of power while serving the Maker.” Amell didn't back down.   
Cullen felt his heart thump against his chest for a moment. Her lack of fear was terrifying. Then he heard Hawke chuckle quietly, and realized that what he was finding to intriguing from Amell, was the same behavior he couldn't stand from the Champion. He may have well and truly lost his mind.  
“What have you done, my girl?” Elthina’s quiet voice broke the tension in the room. She didn't need to raise her voice to convey her disappointment.   
“Grand Cleric, please understand. I need to know what is going on in the city to be able to better protect it. If a warden is here, a mage warden no less, then there may be a threat I need to prepare for.” She gestured toward the letter. “I intercepted the missive in order to gauge the situation better.”  
“And ended up insulting the warden that ended the fifth blight in the process,” Hawke volunteered.  
Meredith stared at the warden, is if trying to gauge the validity of the claim. She nodded her head. “I am Amell, commander of the Ferelden gray wardens, Arlessa of Amaranthine, and the so called Hero of Ferelden.” And then she purposely looked away, completely dismissing her, to read the letter in her hand.   
It didn't take her long, though she told no one what she had read. She only addressed Meredith again on the subject of allowing mages to be recruited as she stuffed the letter into her coat.  
“I have come to take as many Fereldens as I can back home, to submit to the joining and swear an oath of fealty to the wardens. I am aware you have Ferelden mages at your gallows and I would like to meet with them to see if they are suitable to undergo the joining and also willing. They would cease being your responsibility and become mine, instead.”  
“How am I to trust another mage to properly look after mage? Let alone a group of mages? How do I know if you are what you appear to be? I cannot trust you. You could be-“  
“Meredith!” Elthina’s voice was quick with censure. “I cannot believe what I am hearing coming out of your mouth, girl. You cannot just ignore chantry law when you feel like it.”  
“But grand cleric, the safety of everyone-“  
“You also have a duty to the safety of your charges, namely the mages themselves. This tantrum helps no one. Including Ferelden, which is in such need that this young woman came so far to ask for help. And you would insult us all by refusing her.”  
Meredith’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, grand cleric.”  
“Perhaps we should leave. I have a few things to look into.” Amell turned to Elthina. “I would never tell a grand cleric what to do, but perhaps it would be helpful if you reminded the knight commander what her duties entail. And what they do not. It seems she has forgotten herself.” She then gave Elthina her thanks for her help and left. Hawke only stayed long enough for Sebastian to greet him. Then they both left after Amell. He didn't linger much longer himself. He didn't want to be witness to Elthina’s anger and Meredith’s embarrassment.


	4. Doubt Truth to be a Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to finish this one quickly, but it wants to be longer than what I originally planned. Everyone just has all these messy FEELINGS. Dammit all. Let me know what you think! And thank you for reading!

The missive had been from a warden named Stroud. Or as Hawke affectionately called him, Warden Mustache. He asked for Amell’s help scouting a certain part of the deep roads near Kirkwall. It would be a small journey, no longer than 16 days to go and come back. The only problem was that a warden only went into the deep roads alone when the calling started. She needed an actual group to get there and back in one piece to give any kind of report. And her only two warden allies were still in Amaranthine.  
“I’m going to have to find Anders. I should have brought his cat.” They had gone to the Hanged Man. Sebastian with them. They had all had turns reading the letter and were trying to figure out what to do.  
Hawke blinked. “Wait. You knew Anders was here?”  
“Of course I did. He’s one of my wardens, after all.” She rolled her shoulders. “If it weren't for Justice, I wouldn't have let him leave. He was such a good friend. They both were. But after… Well, after, he was never the same person. My Anders is gone. It’s been terrible without him. I wish they hadn't done what they did.” She shifted in her seat.  
“I’m not sure Anders would be the best choice for a deep roads journey right now,” Sebastian said. His arms were crossed and he was thinking with a slight frown between his brows. “He may not survive it.”  
Amell was concerned for her friend. “Is he truly that unwell? I had hoped he had found some sort of peace. But seeing Kirkwall, and Meredith, I know he wouldn't be.”  
“He’s angry, and sad, and hopeless,” Hawke said. “I worry for him too.” She squeezed her cousins hand in commiseration. “But, I think I have a solution for you. For your companion problem.”  
“And what would that be?”  
“You let us come with you,” Hawke said simply.  
“‘Us?’ As in you and Sebastian? Two mages and an archer? Do you want us to get killed, or are you just contrary by nature?”  
Hawke grabbed her cousin’s shoulder and turned her, pointing at the door, Where someone in full templar armor had just walked in.  
“Us.”  
There stood Cullen, looking out of place and uncomfortable in the dingy pub full of reprobates and criminals. And he was looking around, trying to find someone. When his eyes landed on her a relieved look came over his face. He had been looking for her, then.  
“Hello!” Hawke said brightly as he approached their table. She shoved a chair at him and gestured to the waitress for another drink.  
“I’m not here as a social call, Hawke.” Though he did sit, after pushing his chair closer to Amell.  
“I hope I didn't get you into any trouble, Cullen.”  
He only smiled wearily and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Amell. I can handle Meredith. Elthina was very embarrassed and angry about what she had done to you. She’ll leave you be for a while.” He reached for his mug of questionable ale and frowned at it. “I, on the other hand have been assigned a new task.” He took a tentative sip and then grimaced.  
“What’s your task?” Amell asked through her chuckle.  
“Well, its you, actually.”  
“Excuse me?”  
Cullen looked a little embarrassed. “Meredith knows you have to go to the deep roads on a task, and she told me to follow you. She wants to make sure that while you are here, you are…”  
“Unburdened by a demonic passenger?”  
Cullen shrugged as well as he could through his templar armor. “I was going to say it in a less offensive way, but I suppose that works fine.”  
Hawke laughed. “I guess we have our party!”  
They all agreed to meet the next morning, after using the rest of the day to prepare of the journey. Both mabaris were left at the Amell estate, charged with protecting Leandra. They both took their orders seriously and began following the poor lady wherever she went.  
They all met at Hawke’s house early. The sun hadn't even started to rise yet. Amell had insisted it to be so. The entrance to the deep roads they needed to get to was on the Wounded Coast, about half a day’s walk away from the city proper.  
Through the obstacles on the road, it took them a little longer than they had planned, and they needed to make camp for the night before continuing.  
The conversation between the four was calm and lighthearted enough. Trading stories about nothing important over some food. Hawke joking irreverently about everything. At one point she brought up Alistair again, and Amell saw Cullen’s face freeze. This was something she wished she could avoid altogether.  
Cullen agreed to take first watch while everyone else slept. He was acting a little stiff and walked a ways away from the camp and toward the beach.  
After Hawke and Sebastian had gone to sleep, Amell followed him. She wanted to speak to him before she slept. Just for a small while. Seeing him had brought back some old memories and she wanted to talk to him, alone, for a bit. She found him propped against a rock, the moonlight barely strong enough to hint at his shape in the dark. As she approached him she realized he had fallen asleep. He must have been very tired, and she should wake him and insist that he go rest. Her amusement was cut short when she realized that he was having a nightmare.  
She reached out to wake him gently. But at her touch he awoke in such a rage she thought he was going to rip her arm off.  
“Cullen! It’s me, its Div! Calm yourself!”  
Div had been what they had called her in the circle. Unfortunately it had been the wrong choice to address herself as, since it only earned more of a wrenched arm as he reacted badly to it.  
“Dammit, It’s Amell! By the Maker, Cullen, release me before you break my arm!”  
Shaking from the dream, he released her as if she had burned him.  
“I’m sorry.” his breathing was ragged and his voice was hoarse. “It happens when I sleep. It takes over my mind and I’m back over there again, seeing my friends becoming monsters.” His voice was so angry. His fists were clenched and his face was hard. There was so much tension in his body he felt his muscles would crack. “I cant escape that nightmare, no matter how much time passes. And when I am there, again, all I know is that mages corrupted and destroyed my friends. My sleep never lets me rest.”  
She was rubbing the place where his grip had bruised her. Her arm felt like it was filled with needles of fire. She had suspected that he still carried wounds from what happened at the circle tower, as she did. But she hadn't realized his reaction was still so violent. He had seemed so much kinder than the last time she had seen him. Her pitiful hope that he had somehow overcome the trauma from the event began to shrivel in her breast.  
“I was there too, Cullen. The mages and templars that died were also my friends. They were my family.” Her gloved hand gripped his armored forearm and forced him to meet her eyes. She had to make him understand in some way that what he suffered also affected her. “But you have family outside of the circle. Outside of the chantry. The circle was my family, my home. The nightmare that you survived was a nightmare for me as well. And I could do nothing more than end it. I couldn’t heal it. I carry that guilt with me. My home and family are completely gone. I can never go home. I know how you feel, because I feel the same way.”  
Cullen was silent, but the heat in his eyes had died down. The anger and hate no longer fierce enough to ignore her words. She sighed.  
“Cullen. Why do you think Duncan conscripted me?”  
He blinked confusedly at the question. It was a strange thing to ask in this situation. Besides, he had never really thought about it. “I’m not sure. Perhaps he saw that you would be able to defeat the archdemon.” He remembered what it was like to look at her and somehow see only beauty. “And you were in trouble for helping Jowan.”  
She let go of him, one arm crossing over her chest so her hand could clutch her injured shoulder while the other wrapped around her belly. “Yes, I was in a lot of trouble. And that was one of the reasons. But the wardens have a very specific reason for conscripting from mages. It’s because mages have no families. No one to miss them if they fall in battle. Our families already mourned us when the templars took us as children. We have nothing left to fight for in this world. But ourselves. What the blood mages did at the circle was not only a horror for the templars, it was a betrayal of their family.”  
“Are the wardens a better place for you? Are you happy?”  
She laughed without mirth and said: “Maybe. Sometimes. It depends on the day.”  
He didn't know what that uncertainty was like. He had left Fereldan in a sort of self imposed exile, but he knew his family was well and waiting for him to return one day. It suddenly struck him that Amell had nothing of that comfort. Her warden comrades had become her family, but with that comfort came the pledge of death for duty. His family would do what they could to protect him from any and all harm, even with the path he had chosen for himself as a soldier for the Maker. She had nothing like that. And never truly had.  
He watched her, silently once more, and waited for her to continue. At this point she had moved passed her point about the circle being her home and was trying to explain something fundamental about her life and ideals. Trying to share a bit of who she really was with him. In an effort to connect. And to help him calm down.  
“The way the order works… I took to being a warden so easily. Mages do well in the wardens. We have more freedom, to an extent. We must never leave the order or we become apostates, and become subjected to chantry discipline.” Chantry discipline meant being hunted and executed as apostates by templars. “But if we apply ourselves, we can achieve more than any mage in any circle. We are allowed to love. Some marry. The joining renders us unable to have children. Which in many ways is a blessing, really.” Her voice held a resignation in it that was old and weary. “But the wardens help us to live much fuller lives. I am the Arlessa of Amaranthine. Mages are not allowed to hold titles, but as Warden Commander, it is my duty to take that responsibility on my shoulders.”  
“And yet you still cannot marry a king.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew he had said them. They sounded harsh and judgmental. And to his shame he saw the tears gather in her eyes reflect in the weak moonlight before they dropped away from his and her body shrunk into itself. She had only been trying to reach him through his nightmare fueled haze. She hadn't deserved that.  
“Amell-“ he reached for her without thinking and she stepped back.  
“No.” She turned away from him a little and looked up at the sliver of moon in the night’s sky. “I could say that he lied to me, though it would be only partly untrue. I had no idea he was the next in line for the throne. I just thought he was a templar recruit. When he told me, it was already too late. I loved him. I knew that if he became king we wouldn't be able to stay together. He had to leave the wardens, after all.” She leaned back against the rocks he had been asleep on earlier. “Championing his right to the throne was the correct choice. He is a good man and an excellent king that I am proud to recognize as a Ferelden.” She shrugged and then winced when her shoulder hurt. “We were young. A king cannot marry a mage, and as a warden I cannot give him an heir. So obviously I was not the best choice. Or anywhere near being a choice.” Her voice was small. It trembled slightly. “I will not apologize for reaching for love and comfort in a time of extreme loneliness and need. Especially when you wanted nothing more than to lock me in a cage and punish me for something I had no hand in. Remember it was I who saved you. Not your blessed chantry.” She smiled sadly, barley visible in the dark. “But be assured, I was put in my place very quickly when he rose to the throne. And I know where I stand in regards to any attraction may I feel toward any other templar trained man that catches my eye. I am aware that I live on borrowed freedom.”  
He wanted to say something, but no appropriate words would come to him. So he leaned back against the same rock, copying her. They stayed like that for a moment until she stood up straight again.  
“I was so happy to see you again. Happy to see the potential in you had surfaced.” Her fingertips gently grazed his whiskered chin. “Your smile is so kind. It is a gift to be able to witness it once more.” She pressed a kiss to her fingertip and brushed his lips with it softly. “Wake me when it’s time to switch. You need sleep.”  
And then Cullen was left alone in the dark, feeling confused, sad, angry, and ashamed. He wanted to go after her. He wanted to take it all back. But the man he had become after the circle tower fell to demons didn't know kindness anymore. Perhaps the boy he had been before, the one who had seen the light of the world in her smile once, so very long ago, could have thought of something. But all this angry and broken Cullen could do was turn and stare into the darkness and feel his lips burn with a kiss she had never really given him.


	5. if Music be the Gift of Love, then Play on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rushed this chapter, so I know its got a bunch of errors. Sorry about that. I'll try to edit it a little later when I have time. Let me know what you think!

The next morning Sebastian awoke with start. Something very soft and very warm was snuggled up to his side, causing a rather uncomfortable feeling somewhere not so very monkly. He remembered that it had been very early when Hawke had stumbled back to camp, barely keeping her eyes open from sleep and tripped over him in her hurry to get to her bedroll. If he had not caught her, she would have definitely broken her fall with her face. As it was she had been completely asleep when he had tried to check her for injuries. So he had let her sleep with him.  
He knew it was wrong, and that he most likely wouldn't have a clever excuse in the morning. But his mind was still searching for one when those sleepy hazel eyes fluttered open and realized rather quickly where she was and what that poking sensation on her hip was.  
He had a fascinating moment of seeing shameless, flirtatious Hawke’s eyes widen as she blushed prettily. Which honestly wasn't helping his…situation. He may be seriously thinking of going home and renouncing his vows, but that didn't mean that he had renounced them NOW.  
Or that she would be accepting of his… What? What exactly was this? He had no experience with- Maker save him- ‘courting’ or whatever foolery it was that he wanted to do to Hawke. Did one have courting done to them? Or at them? He then realized what he was thinking and thought himself a fool once more for even allowing himself to entertain such thoughts. He was still a brother, and she was still an apostate mage.  
“Sebastian… What am I doing here?” She had seemed to regain some of her composure, as her voice held some amusement.  
He decided the honest answer sounded the least plausible, but lying was something he had given up long ago. “You tripped and fell and were asleep by the time you hit the ground so I let you stay.”  
“Ah. And why didn't you move?”  
He honestly didn't have an answer for that, as it had not even occurred to him. “I guess I was so tired I fell asleep before I thought of it.” There went the vow of honesty. Right out the chantry window.  
“And your current condition? Should I jump for joy or be crushed by bitter disappointment?”  
Her flirting always made him want to laugh, Maker preserve him. He smothered one now, but could not keep the slight smile from his face. “I am still a man, Hawke. Even though I am a brother.” He then lifted himself up and away from her warmth, sitting and grabbing his pack in an effort to distract himself from the sight of her sleepy form on his bedroll. She opened her mouth to speak, but Amell chose that moment to walk into he camp with freshly caught fish on a line.  
“You guys up? I have breakfast here. Better get as much of this protein as you can into your bodies. The food we’ll be eating in the deep roads won’t be as palatable.”  
Cullen had been sitting in the corner of camp, trying his best to ignore the two of them, and they hadn't noticed him at all. He quickly jumped up to help Amell, grateful for the task, fetching water and helping clean her catch.  
She seemed to have injured her arm somehow and he was being very solicitous about it.  
Sebastian and Hawke’s moment had passed, and they both scrambled to prepare for the day. Meals were eaten and belongings packed. Last minute planning and instructions were decided on and repeated. And through it all, Hawke and Amell worked as if they had known each other all their lives and had worked together before.  
“The both of you are very comfortable, aren't you?” Cullen remarked, offhandedly.  
“Well, even Carver and I worked well together, despite his grumbling. I should think my cousin and I can figure this out pretty well between ourselves.” Hawke didn't look up from what she was doing when she replied, too busy to give him any more attention than she already was.  
“Wait. Cousin?” They both registered the break in Cullen’s voice.  
Both turned and smiled the same smile at the same time.  
He then turned to Sebastian in a slight panic. “Maker preserve us, they're cousins.”  
“Yes, I can see that.” He clapped Cullen on the back, holding his own panic in. “Be strong. We can survive this.”  
Both Amell and Hawke laughed at their foolishness.  
There were similarities in their features. Same eyes, same chin. Both had a goodly amount of freckles. Both were dark haired, but Amell’s hair was more red than Hawke’s. The warden was also a bit more round than her cousin. Larger shoulders made to support a generous frame. Hawke was a bit more lean. Except for one thing they absolutely shared that both men had to make a conscious effort to avoid staring at as the two women walked in front of them. Amell’s footsteps were lighter, more careful, while Hawke’s were stronger and more sure. But somehow the swing of their hips were the same. As were the curves in that general area. Both Cullen and Sebastien were incredibly relieved when they finally made it to the cave entrance to the deep roads and the two ladies took out their coats to ward off the cave chill.  
“The cold won’t last long once we get to the actual roads themselves. The Dwarves used lava to light their way underground. You’ll want to take that heavy armor off, more often than not. You’ll roast if you don’t. It’s the reason why you see most warden armor, even heavy armor, as more cloth than metal. But don't worry, I’ll take us through the less dangerous spots. I know how to avoid things down here.”  
Things. Darkspawn, she meant. Not a very welcome prospect for any in the party. But they had set out on their course, so there was nothing they could really do but forge ahead.  
“The last time I was down here the wardens had to take my brother. So avoidance sounds like a good thing to me,” Hawke said as she resettled her pack and followed in Amell’s footsteps.  
It was not usual for a mage to lead a party, but since the warden was the only one with knowledge of the area and of where they were headed, Cullen let her take lead. Following close behind in case of attack so he could protect her. Though the idea of protecting the woman that killed an archdemon and ended the blight was a bit silly, truth be told.  
It would take them at least six days to get to the barrier the wardens had erected over a tunnel that fed into the darkspawn’s passages. She didn't have to say that if they ran into anything large before that, the barrier was no longer there and they were going to have a huge darkspawn problem. No one wanted to even think of that as a possibility.  
“There’s a warden camp about halfway there, stocked with food. It will be a safe place to rest, and theres a hot spring as well. And we’ll also be passing through a cavern so massive it has its own weather system. Fascinating. It has a lake with fish, and it rains. It’s beautiful.” Amell was keeping her voice even and quiet as she skirted a pile of rocks in her way. From time to time she would use her magic to test the floor for pitfalls and holes. Stopping to snatch up mushrooms and other underground vegetation. She was used to this. In her element. And through the subsequent hours she kept them safe, and hopefully on course, through the dark passages that led to the deep roads.  
When they finally made it to the dwarves passages, she left them for a moment to scout ahead. Cullen hadn't wanted to let her go ahead, but she had shushed him and told him that if he went he would get them all killed. She wasn't gone long, but a part of Cullen rankled at the idea of letting her out of his sight. But she soon returned, urging them to move quickly.  
“Be prepared for a fight, though I would like to avoid it. As long as you do what I tell you, they will avoid us.”  
They. No one said a word as she ushered them as quickly and quietly away from the area. After a while she relaxed a bit and let them rest.  
“Is it darkspawn?” Hawke asked. “Does that mean the barrier is down?”  
“No,” Amell replied. “Scouting parties travel far distances, as do raiding parties. Looking for exits, or stupid adventures dumb enough to be raiding ancient dwarven thaigs.”  
“Hey, there’s an insult in there somewhere!” Hawke protested, and Sebastian laughed.  
They had resumed their trek, walking for hours with no real talking, just following Amell’s lead, when she stopped dead in her tracks and said calmly “Do not flee down the side tunnels. You will get lost and I will never find you. Stay in the group. Do not allow them to separate us.”  
And then madness descended upon them. Darkspawn were terrifying. They stayed together, mages and Sebastian knocking them down, and Cullen defending the circle with brutal force. They had gained the upper hand in the battle when one snuck past Cullen’s guard while he was distracted with another. Trusting that Hawke and Sebastian could take care of the stragglers, Amell launched herself around and between Cullen and the genlock, using her staff as a physical weapon, and hitting it square in the face with the glowing crystal on its top. A crystal that was twice the size of its head and weighed about as much. Cullen only had a moment to register the scene, before turning to defend his back.  
When the fight was over, he found himself on his knees, breathing hard. This was almost as terrifying as the tower. At least this time he could hit back. How did she do this all the time? For years. Forever.  
She crouched in front of him, leaning on her staff for balance, and smiled at him.  
“You all right?”  
“Yes. Thank you for saving me.”  
Much like she had the night before, she pressed her fingertip to his bottom lip. “I will always do so, and you will never need to thank me.”  
He felt his heart thump against his chest again, much like it did in Meredith’s office not too long ago. And this time it didn't disturb him as much.

*

“Did you see that? That was amazing!”  
Sebastian was gathering arrows . “I’ve seen you do similar things to protect any one of us, before.”  
“Of course I have. I just never knew anyone could be as crazy as me.”  
Sebastian smiled, his voice full of amusement. “Hawke, if any can be as crazy as you, it would be the cousin that killed a demon possessed dragon and lived to talk about it.”  
Suddenly there was a loud crack, and Sebastian reacted instinctively. He grabbed her wrist and yanked, as a part of the ceiling fell. She landed hard against him and his other hand came up to cover her head as he pushed her up against the opposite wall, protecting her with his body as the stone fell to the floor and shattered.  
“Sebastian!”  
He was pelted with little rocks and stones. If he had not been wearing his armor, he would have a few cracked ribs at least. As it was, he would be feeling pretty sore when the adrenaline wore off.  
“I’m all right, Hawke. I’m all right.” His eyes were shut for a moment, trying to just breathe. She’d almost been crushed to death. If he’s just been a few feet too far away to save her, she’d be gone. His hold on her only tightened.  
“Thank the Maker,” she whispered. She slid her fingers over his face, tracing over his chin and nose. Sliding up over his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”  
He almost didn't hear her. She had never really touched him before. Not really. She had grabbed him and yanked him around sometimes, but she had always kept her grip on his armor. They had never had skin to skin contact. The feel of her callused fingers felt like madness and thirst. He wanted more, but the gentleness of her touch kept him from moving. It had been so long since he had been touched. He hadn't even realized how much he missed it until this very moment.  
His blue eyes opened and looked right into her soul. Hawke couldn't breathe. Her mouth went dry. Her skin warmed. Ever since that morning her heart had been off kilter. She had tried so hard to be a good girl around him. And truthfully she wasn't so deficient in propriety that she would attack a man of holy vows just because he happened to be so incredibly lovely to look at. Or his accent just did things to the back of her brain. Or other areas. It’s just that her mouth didn't like her sometimes. It disagreed with her decision to leave him alone. So it got her into lots of trouble. Truthfully, she’d been more than a little infatuated with Sebastian for a while. At least her stupid comments and flirtation kept him away from her of his own volition. But then he had to go and save her life. Part of her was wondering what he would do if she just leaned up and closed the space between their mouths. The thought that he would hate her kept her from it. It also made her want to cry.  
More than a little annoyed at herself, she remembered that he was hurt. “Sweetheart, are you injured?” she said and then wanted to swiftly kick herself for the endearment. There was no joking tone in her voice. It had been soft. It had been full of emotion. And it made his eyes widen, that blue boring into her. For the second time today, she blushed.  
She yanked her hands away from him and used them to cover her face.  
Very slowly, as if he himself couldn't believe what he was doing, he reached for one of her hands and put it back on his cheek. Pressing it in with his own hand and closing his eyes.  
“I am so glad you are unharmed, Hawke.” The way he said her name made her insides flutter. He then opened his eyes and said very seriously, “We need to speak. But now is not the time.” Then he dropped her hand and turned as the warden commander and the knight captain came to assist them.  
It took two days, but they finally made it to the warden camp. It was through a cavern so large it could’ve been outdoors. Blue grass grew from the earth, and glowing green, blue and white fungi lit the cavern light soft daylight, dotted in shadows. As Amell had said, clouds had somehow formed up high and there was a gentle rain that smelled sweet. and a little lake full of glowing fish.  
“This is amazing!” Cullen exclaimed.  
Amell nodded. “Yes. Parts of the deep roads are absolutely astonishing. As far as we can tell, the lyrium in the earth is resonating with the plant life, creating a unique ecosystem. The darkspawn avoid it. It appears to have evolved a natural defense against them and the taint they carry. Try not to disturb anything. We don't want to unbalance anything down here.”  
The warden camp itself was in a small corner. There was a hearth ready for a controlled fire, and casks and trunks full of food and drink. Ready bedrolls. Clean clothes. Even shoes.  
Amell checked Sebastian’s scrapes and bruises, applying as much healing as she could. Hawke hadn't stopped having a worried look on her face for two days and visibly winced every time he moved too fast or stumbled a little from discomfort.  
“He’ll be all right soon. The mineral spring will help him heal right up.” She smiled at Hawke kindly. “Don’t worry, cousin. We’ll get his princely-ness all fixed up, good as new.” Then she winked at Sebastian and he had froze. Just like Hawke. A saucy wink full of flirtation and amusement. And completely devoid of any connection. An affectation that when used by Hawke meant much more than a simple joke for the sake of comfort.  
“I’ll show you where the springs are,” she said, addressing both men. “You both seem to be a little worse for the wear than we are. You get first dibs on a wash.”

*

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Cullen was sitting in the water, in nothing but his smalls. Amell had just done what she could for Sebastian, as his injuries were a bit more serious than his. And now she was attending to him.  
“It’s rather simple, really.” Her fingers dug into his tense muscles, sliding down his back and up his shoulders with firm pressure and welcome warmth. “Fire is the first thing a mage learns, and the last thing to leave them before they die. It is created by being able to vibrate the air very fast to the point of ignition. With enough study and effort you can control how much or how little you create the fire. Thus, I am only willing the air to vibrate a little, creating heat, but not flame.” She dug her thumbs into he base of his skull, massaging away the tension and he almost moaned.  
“That’s simple? Sounds bloody difficult to me.”  
Amell smiled. “I’ve been doing it so long it doesn't feel very complicated. Transmogrification. Now that is hard.” And so were the muscles in his back, shoulders, neck, and arms. Giddy ripples were going off deep in her belly. She never thought that he would ever willingly allow her to touch him. But she really needed to get a hold of herself. This was healing. Not some gratuitous display to embolden her dirty little imagination. “The minerals in the water should help with the soreness and make sure any infection in your cuts is killed off. I’m going to go make both of you a poultice. Don’t soak too long or you’ll get overheated.” She patted him on the shoulder in a gesture she hoped was chummy and avoided their gazes as she fled.  
Cullen sank down into the water a bit more and closed his eyes.  
“I’m willing to bet that transmogrification isn't the only hard thing around here, right now.” That Starkhaven accented voice was tinged with amusement. And a bit of empathy.  
Cullen didn't want to even go there. He simply sank father down into he water until his ears were covered. Even in this dark cavern, his blush was surely too bright to not be noticed. He had been a little carried away. Hopefully the heat form the pool would kill the ache in more than just his muscles. But he couldn't do it long, as he had to make sure his brain didn't boil in his skull.  
Sebastian hadn’t stopped watching in that calm and discomforting way he had. Briefly, Cullen wondered if all chantry brothers and sisters were trained to have that one particular expression on their faces.  
“You and the warden have a history, do you?” The question was calmly stated. Sebastian already knew the answer, so Cullen didn't understand why he had asked it.  
“I was at her harrowing.”  
“Ah.”  
Impatiently, Cullen sat up straighter. “I know what you're thinking, but I know what I am and I know what I am not allowed to do, so-“  
“I’m leaving the chantry and renouncing my vows.” Sebastian spoke as if Cullen hadn't been talking at all. The look on his face was almost serene.  
“Why would you do that?”  
“I am the last surviving member of the Starkhaven royal family. It’s time I took responsibility and stopped running from my fate.”  
“I see.”  
“I’m also considering asking Hawke to be my wife.”  
“What? But she's an apostate!”  
“She is a good, kind, determined, shrewd woman that fights with everything she has for those that she loves. She saved an entire city from being destroyed, and it’s people from being slaughtered. As well as being related to one of the noblest houses in Thedas. If she were just a lady, those credentials by themselves would make her over qualified to be my wife. The fact that she is a mage makes no difference to me. Not anymore. If my time as her companion has taught me anything, it’s that she is what she is because of her magic, not despite it.”  
He thought of Amell. She is what she is because of her magic, not despite it. “But I am still a templar.”  
“And Amell is more than a mage, isn't she? She is a warden sworn to protect this world from the evils that seek to destroy it. Her vow is as binding as yours, but with less comforts. She serves the Maker by serving His people. All people. Her chant of light is a battle cry and hands that protect. Not to mention she has a position of power in Ferelden. The weight of her responsibility is great. She is not just a mage. Confined and watched. She is a soldier, a leader, and a lady.” Sebastian paused and looked him directly in the eye. “And she is not under your supervision. She has passed her harrowing. You are not bound by whatever vow you think keeps you apart from her. The fact that she is a mage is a moot point when looking at everything else she has become.”  
Cullen just stared wordlessly at him. He had never expected such a thing to come out of that particular man’s mouth.  
“Magic was made to serve man, never to rule over him. She serves, even from a seat of power. Our journey into the deep roads should be proof enough of that.”  
Then they both fell silent, contemplating their own problems.  
Eventually they had to get out. Dressing in silence, both in deep thought. But still alert for an attack, even though Amell had assured them that no darkspawn was close enough to disturb them. How she knew that was beyond Cullen, but he supposed grey wardens knew what they were doing when it came to darkspawn. She had killed an archdemon after all.  
Sebastian and Cullen made their way back to where they had made camp. The heat of the pools had helped with the scrapes and bruises. The sore muscles. They were both ready for some food and rest. But as they neared the camp they both stopped in unison. And stared.  
Hawke was sitting by the fire, stirring something in a large cookpot. And Amell was crushing precious healing herbs into a paste for a poultice. And they were both singing. Amell had said in passing that their family was musically gifted, and she had not lied. Their voices needed no musical accompaniment as they blended together softly, instinctively. As if they had practiced the song for performance, other than just singing to fill the silence of work.  
Neither man moved. Neither man could. It was a mesmerizing sight. But the moment was broken when someone’s voice hit a wrong note, and they broke harmony with laughter.  
It was Hawke that noticed them first, waving them over. “Come over here and get to work, boys, or no food for you.”  
And as Cullen walked passed Sebastian, making his way to Amell, he whispered, “Marry that woman or you’ll regret it.”


	6. We that are True Lovers Run into Strange Capers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I hope this chapter is good. Let me know what you think. I have more for the next chapter all done, I just have to clean it up. As always, let me know if I messed something up. My dyslexia makes writing difficult. Thank you guys!

Dinner had been unusually quiet, broken only by the sounds of eating and an occasional comment from Hawke and Amell. After a while they decided to leave the men alone to their brooding. The ladies needed a bath, and getting away from gloomy faced men became top priority.  
“So how is it going with you and Cullen? Anything happen that I could stick my nosey little intrusive soul into?” Hawke was up to her shoulders in the heated water, hair in a bun to keep it dry. Amell was sitting on the edge of the pool, her legs in the water, leaning back on her arms.  
“Nothing terribly exciting. We talked a bit, about the circle tower. About the wardens. You’ve been around for the rest.”  
Hawke sighed dramatically. “How utterly disappointing.”  
Amell raised a brow at her cousin. “What of you and that lovely foreign prince?” She clutched her hands to her great to her breast and cried out dramatically, “Sebastian!”  
“Shut up, woman!” Hawke sprayed water at her. “They might hear you!”  
Amell laughed and splashed water back at her. “And I thought I was silly for having unrequited affection for a templar. YOU had to go and fall for a chantry brother.”  
Hawke didn't answer. She rubbed her temples and ignored her.  
“It must be something in our blood that makes us love those that are opposed to us in such a basic way. Your mother certainly did the same.”  
Hawke couldn't refute that. Leandra had loved Malcolm so well and so completely. Three children and three decades later, when he had died, Leandra had died a little as well. He had been a good husband, escaped mage or no. And a fantastic father. Hawke had had to take over the care of her family when Malcolm died because Leandra had lost herself for a time. And she had never really recovered. And with the loss of each one of her children, a little more of her indomitable spirit got chipped away. Hawke was the last child she had left. And she knew her mother was burdened with how much like her father she was. But she was like her, too. And as such, her heart had found itself swayed by someone she had no business swayed by.  
“She did. She was very brave.” Hawke hugged herself, lost in memory of her parents.  
Amell watched her for a moment. “I say go for it.” The look on Hawke’s face made her laugh again. “What? We both know he will not stay a brother forever. He needs to go back to Starkhaven, eventually. Perhaps you can push him.” She tried to control the grin on her face and failed. “And encourage him to push you... onto your back, for example.”  
“You!” Hawke laughed as she threw a washrag at her cousin’s head. She caught it easily.  
“My sweet girl,” Amell said sarcastically. “We live lives of danger and excitement. To deny yourself the opportunity to corrupt a man of such purity is an absolute crime. Especially when he isn’t as unwilling as he seems.”  
Hawke remembered the morning she had woken up on his bedroll and had the grace to blush. “Apparently he was a complete reprobate and libertine before he took his vows.”  
Amell reached over and patter her on the shoulder. “Lucky girl.” And then she sank into the water.  
“Didn’t your love affair with a royal end badly?”  
“End, yes. Badly, no.” She had rested her head against the stone at her back, her eyes closed. “It ended sadly.” She sighed. “But I wouldn't give up that experience, or those memories. An integral part of who I am was formed by loving a man that was worthy of me. And he was.” Hawke swallowed at her words.  
Amell leaned forward and addressed Hawke directly. “I am not saying that when we ended things, it didn't hurt. I truly loved him. And I always will. But you are not me. You have not taken the vows I have. Your responsibilities are not mine. Alistair is my good friend and the first man I ever slept with. Sebastian can be much more for you.”  
“Alistair was not your first love?”  
“No. That sweetness belonged to another man. A sweetness I had never thought to feel again in all my life.”  
Hawke grinned. “Until you saw him again?”  
She looked down at the water. “Perhaps.”  
“You can’t stay with him.”  
Amell’s smile was sad. “No, but it’s different now. I had thought to stay away rom him. I even told him I knew my place and didn't expect anything from him.”  
“What changed?”  
“I guess I'm selfish. I can recapture something I’ve always wanted. Erase that regret. One day one of these darkspawn is going to find a way to bring me down. When it happens, I don't want my last thought to be: ‘what if.’”  
“Then what are you going to do about it?”  
“What do you think I should do about it?”  
“You should help the poor man.” Hawke yawned as she said, “Virginity must be such a burden to such an… athletic looking individual.”  
Amell snorted in the most undignified manner and laughed. “I may. I’m rather intrigued with the idea of helping the poor dear. And you?”  
“What about me?”  
“Are you going to let your reprobate holy man assist you with your virginity as well?”  
Hawke sat up straight. “How did you know?”  
“I didn’t.” She grinned. “Thank you for confirming it.”  
Hawke made a sound of disgust. “Damn you, you're too much like me.”  
“You’re just sore I figured out your secret. And besides, I hear royalty likes virgins.”  
“That’s terrifying. Hmph.” She sank into the water, the tips of her ears touching the surface. Amell only smiled at her sulk.  
“The world is changing. There is a risk to pursuing him, I understand that. But what is between you is more than obvious, and I've only known you for a week.” Amell rubbed her bruised arm. “If you like we can use our remaining time here to figure it out. Barring the invasion of a massive horde of darkspawn, we have eleven days left to spend with these men. Alone. Without any worldly interruptions. And it’s not like they can run away from us.” She chuckled and Hawke was suddenly grateful to be on her good side. Amell’s mind was a scary place.  
Not that her’s was any better.  
“What are you thinking, cousin?”  
It was some time later when they finally got back to camp, rosy and warm form their bath. Amell went to find Cullen, who had gone to investigate the lake, leaving Sebastian and Hawke to themselves. It was time to initiate a half formed plan, full of uncertainties and dire possibilities. A battle for the hearts of two men too devout to touch them. If not, themselves.

 

*

Amell made her way to the lake, barefoot and determined. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her ears, and it made her lungs hurt. What happened with Alistair had not been a conscious choice, it had just been. This was a choice. She knew and understood the parameters of this situation. And as such, it made her jittery.  
Cullen appeared to be deep in thought as he stared into he depths of the dark lake. He had forgone his armor and was dressed in a normal shirt and pants. His curls were an absolute mess in the light rain. He looked rumpled and grumpy and so adorable Amell had to hide a smile behind her hand as she approached him.  
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the wardens.” He didn't look at her when he spoke, still lost in thought. She waited silently for him to continue. “I didn't really understand it. I just thought it was something like being a templar. But it’s more than that, isn't it?”  
He finally turned to her, and she couldn't decipher the look on his face. He looked like he was made of stone.  
“Templars retire. They go home to their families. They leave the order. Some go years without having to do anything other than guard circles, not even having to lift their voices in reprimand. For you, being a warden is a promise of war and death. There is no freedom. There is no release. I never understood that before.” He took in a long breathe and let it out impatiently. “Coming here I finally see what you need to do to keep us all safe. I can only imagine what it was like facing the archdemon. Darkspawn are terrifying enough.”  
“I’m a bloody hero, aren't I? I’ve never been afraid a day in my life.”  
He laughed, despite himself. “You forget I was there for your harrowing. Liar.”  
She grinned. “No one would ever believe you.”  
“Perhaps not. But I finally feel as if I understand you better now.”  
“Had you lost your grasp of me, Cullen? I am a simple creature, truly.”  
“You only say that because you aren't me.”  
They spent a moment of companionable silence, just watching the ripples of glowing, lyrium mutated fish under the dark surface of the water. They had fallen back on old habits, she realized. The time they had spent in the circle had been just like this. Together in silence. It was comfortable and comforting. And if this was all she could get out of him, it would be enough. But she wasn't going to give up just yet.  
“Would you like to see something amazing?”  
“Something more amazing than a massive cave where it rains and the walls glow with magic?”  
It was her turn to laugh. “Maybe not, but it’s still pretty wonderful to me.”  
He let her lead the way. Through the glowing grasses, to the cave wall, where there was a small, dark passage. She called forth an orb of light and went in, telling him to watch his step as he followed her.  
They traversed the path and reached a smaller cavern, nothing very interesting in it. There was nothing of the glowing lyrium here. Just dirt and stone. There was another bedroll and a chest in the corner.  
She turned to him and smiled. A mischievous smile that made his heart skip a beat. “Are you ready? It’s going to get very dark in here for a moment.”  
“I swear if this is some sort of trick, Amell…”  
She laughed as she extinguished her light. There was a moment of disorienting darkness and then suddenly Cullen couldn't stop staring at the stone over his head in amazement. The darkness had suddenly been lit up by millions and millions of glowing stars.

 

*

 

Hawke and Sebastian were preparing their gear for the next day’s journey. They both had so much to say to each other, but it was hard to speak up.  
Sebastian kept remembering how she could’ve died. It made him shake with fear, his belly tightening with sickness. He had finally understood what she was to him. Being a brother did not protect your heart from reaching out for what you’ve sworn not to pursue, it seemed. In many ways the chantry had helped him mature. To overcome his callousness and selfishness. But in other ways it had kept him from seeing things clearly. He should have known the moment she walked into his life that he would be faced with this. How could you not look at Hawke and see inevitability? She was a madness in his blood and there would never be another, not even the Maker, that could compel him in such a way.  
Completely out of his depth he decided to speak, and hope that he wasn't making a mistake.  
“I’ve been thinking of going home.”  
She looked up from what she was doing at his quiet words. “All right,” she said, nodding her head. She put down her gear and went to sit by him. “Tell me about it.”  
She was always so receptive to him. Ready to discuss something and hear what he had to say. She may not always agree with him, but she had always respected his mind. She did the same for any of their other companions. The trust and regard she had for her friends was obvious in the seriousness she allowed herself when they needed anything, even just to talk. She never extended that care to anyone else. The distinction was gratifying.  
“It’s been five years since my family was killed. My cousins are destroying everything in their bid for power. I feel I've been selfish in hiding behind my chantry vows and letting my people suffer for my weakness.”  
Her smile was kind. And it pained him for some reason. “Your cousins are brats that see power and not responsibility. You were afraid to fail at that responsibility, so it took you some time to work through it. I understand. But if you have overcome that, then you need to begin reclaiming your place. Your people have suffered enough.”  
“You are right. I am not my father and I had feared my sins made me unqualified to lead. But perhaps I am not as unworthy as I thought.”  
She laughed softly. “You worry about things that matter so little, Sebastian. You do your best, and you keep your people alive, and fed, and relatively happy.” She shrugged. “The burden of guilt should be yours to carry only if your people suffer. Then you fix it. If they are all right, then you are all right.”  
He knew she was speaking more of her family than the people of Starkhaven. It was a simple way to view royalty and politics, but in its most basic form that’s what ruling was. You cared fro the needs of your people and you did what you could to make them happy. A care giver. A parent. All the things Hawke had become when Malcolm had died. It broke his heart.  
“I can do that. I think.”  
She reached out and smoothed over the cut on his cheek that he received when he saved her life. “You can.”  
He felt her touch like a bolt of bright light going through him. This wasn't the time or place for this. He was still bound by his vows and not free to offer her anything. But the words wouldn't stay in his throat. “About what happened, after the cavern collapsed…”  
She looked away suddenly, her hands rubbing up the sides of her arms in discomfort. Perhaps she was not as brave as her cousin. “Can we please just forget that? I got carried away. Let’s just leave it there.”  
“But I-“  
She stood up and walked away, out from under the overhang that protected the camp from the never ending storm, and into the glowing grass.  
She stood in the soft rain, shivering. He followed her and stood at the edge of the overhang, in dryness. He wanted to go to her, but he had no idea how to approach her.  
“Hawke,” he called out to her. His voice was low, concerned. It seemed to affect her, and she turned to him. Her hazel eyes looked so lost. He had never seen her look so vulnerable. Slowly, she stepped forward, toward him. As if she couldn't help herself. The droplets of water clung to her hair and lashes, sliding down her skin in tears he suspected had nothing to do with the rain.  
She stopped right in front of him, close but not touching. Then slowly, she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his in the sweetest kiss he had ever been gifted. He didn't even know if he could breathe, least of all move. When she pulled back, his heart almost broke. Her smile was so sad. Silently, she turned and walked away.  
Too many things were going through his mind. But the one with the loudest voice was the one that forced him into the mild, magical rain, reaching for her and turning her back to him. Without a word his mouth found hers, as he held her tight. The world be damned. He would confess and ask for forgiveness later, though he knew he wouldn't feel sorry.  
Her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, as she returned his kisses with ardent fervor. Five years of feeling pouring out of her in a rush that left her giddy and lightheaded. Or that may have been the kiss. Maker, he knew how to kiss.  
He buried his face in her neck, breathing hard. “Maker forgive me, but the only thing that can stop me right now is you.” His voice was full of torment and need.  
“Don’t stop,” she said, surprised at the husky quality of her voice. She felt him shiver as her breathe hit his ear. “Don’t ever stop.”  
“And the others?”  
Hawke chuckled. “They have their own problems to work out. They won’t be back for a while.”  
Without a word, he swept her up in his arms as if she were a princess. The action of being effortlessly lifted made Hawke’s stomach flutter as if it were filled with dozens of butterflies. She was already lightheaded. When he set her down by the fire and continued to kiss her, all she could do was wrap herself around him and anchor her hands in his hair.  
He pulled back for a moment to remove his white shirt and she took full advantage. Sliding her hands over his torso while she pressed her lips to his damp skin. Passing over his bruises with gentle sweetness.  
“Hawke,” he warned. “I haven't been touched in a very long time. I may not be able to control myself if you continue doing that.”  
Absolutely delighted, she pulled him back down for more kisses. “Promises, promises,” she said as she sighed into his mouth.


	7. Where the Pleasant Fountains Lie

Hey, guys. I'm sorry that it took this long to upload another chapter. My dad died and things kind of went bonkers. Then I had a family thing, and was in the hospital. So... IM SO SORRY! But here's the next one. I hope it's ok. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! I'm posting this on my phone, so please excuse any weirdness.

\--------------------------------------------

 

 

“Is this magic? Or lyrium?” The stars glittered around and over them, turning everything silver.  
“No. It’s fungus.” Amell giggled and Cullen found himself joining in with her laughter.  
He marveled that she could find beauty in something no one else would look at twice. Her mind was fascinating. She had always been this way, even in the circle. So smart and eager to share her knowledge. The few real conversations they had shared in the past had been of her studies. She had always tried to explain to him in words he could understand. It may have been useless for him to know about, but it had been interesting, and even more so because of her excitement over it.   
Seeing her now, yes, she had changed. But that core quality of knowledge and enthusiasm had not left her. Her fascination with the world and how it functioned was entrenched wishing the very fiber of her being. It had been the first thing he had ever noticed about her.  
She had said that the girl she had been didn't exist anymore. But watching her now, as she gushed her way through an explanation about phosphorescence and how it appears naturally in nature, he couldn't help but see her as she had once been. She had grown and matured, but that mind was still as compelling as ever. But now she was also fierce, with a backbone, and a defined sense of duty.  
And her smile still had the power to stop his heartbeat in it’s tracks. In that moment he knew he had made his decision.  
Cullen’s hand on her cheek stopped her mid sentence. Her eyes widened. Something soft lurking behind the surprise.   
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, as he leaned down to do just that.  
She was much smaller than he was. Her head barely reaching his shoulders. She had to lean up to close the distance between them to make the kiss work. His fingers slid from her cheek to her damp hair as he pulled her closer. She was so warm, a part of him that had been so cold started to crack open.  
One of her hands clutched at his shirt, over his heart, as the other gripped onto his arm. He basically had no idea what he was doing. He had never kissed a girl before. She had been the first he had ever really noticed, and after what happened in the circle he had been too traumatized to want anything to do with sex. What the demons had done to him had made him wary of getting involved with any other woman. It had been better to avoid it altogether than to be put in a position of weakness again.   
But this didn't feel like weakness. When she pressed into him and deepened his pathetic attempt at a kiss, he felt the layers of heart begin to unravel. Patiently, she took control and showed him what a real kiss tasted like.   
In darkness lit by the magic of a million stars, deep within the earth, two hearts that had been destined to never find each other again began to heal. 

*

Sebastian could barely believe what he doing. The pious part of him was trying to take back control of his body, chastising him for not staying true to his piety. Shaming him for not being steadfast in his vow to serve the Maker. He was getting ready to pull back and put some distance between himself and temptation.  
Then Hawke moaned into his mouth and tried to suck his tongue right out of his skull.   
The fire that ignited in his veins burned away any thought of chantry vows. He reached down and yanked her thighs up and apart, wrapping her legs around his hips as he swiftly made his way to the bedroll, sinking to his knees and pressing her onto her back.  
She had lost her shirt somewhere, and he suddenly found the droplets of water sliding down her skin to be utterly fascinating. Her legs squeezed him harder as he used his tongue to to follow their trail. His mouth ran over a rough scar and sucked at it, using his teeth in a sharp little bite that had her arching her back and moaning his name.  
It had been so long since he had heard a woman say his name in the throes of lust. It always pleased him, in the past. But this was Hawke under him, not some random woman he would forget as soon as he was done with her. The sound of his name coming from her mouth as she ground herself against him in reaction to his little bite couldn't compare to anything else he had ever known in his life.   
He learned quickly that she attacked love making with the same ardent fervor she had for battle. He would be covered in scratches along with his bruises when this was over. His scalp burned from her tugging fingers. His back ached from her nails. Teeth marks were on his shoulders and neck. He was also sure that the stinging on his lip was also due to her fondness of biting.  
He took his time with her, though her impatience was more than clear in the desperate sounds coming from her throat and the way she clutched at him. From her ears to her belly button, he licked his way down her body, stopping only when he reached the edge of her pants.  
He slid his fingers down her belly and over her hips. Something about the line of her waist made him crazy. He tugged her leather leggings open and slid his hand in, right into her heat. The moisture he found there was more than enough to attest to how much she wanted him.   
Breathing hard, he slid his fingers up and in. Her muscled fluttered around his fingers and she was so tight, he wondered if he might hurt her. In the last five years he had known her, he had never seen her with another man. She was flirtatious by nature, but she had never truly encouraged anyone’s interest. He had a sinking suspicion he needed to voice.  
“Are you… a virgin, Hawke?”  
If anything his question seemed to turn her on more, his hand being flooded with more of her juices. “Only technically.”  
“Technically,” he repeated, his accent thicker, making him sound even more suspicious. She only nodded her head, her eyes shut.   
This woman was too much. Too imperfect, too perfect, too beautiful. Strong, vicious, and fearless. Her bravery terrified him. It entangled him.  
“Do you touch yourself, Hawke? And think of me when you bring yourself to pleasure?”  
“For years your name has been the best way to make me come, Sebastian,” she responded immediately, moving against his fingers in rhythm that made him sweat.  
He had never expected her to actually answer his question, and honestly he had had no idea where it had come from in the first place. The more time he spent steeped in her, the more his old personality came to the fore. And how he loved her answer. It made him imagine so many things, want too many things. It was too late now. Not that he had ever had a chance to deny her before. Inevitability should have been Hawke’s first name.   
“I’ll do my best not to hurt you,” he tried to reassure her. But she was having none of it.  
“Don’t be an idiot. I know hymens don't work that way.”  
He almost laughed. True. Leave it to his Hawke to not have a maidenly bone in her beautiful, crazy body.   
“Either do me or make me come, your highness.” She yanked on his arm. “I’m getting a little desperate here.”  
This time he did laugh. Both their pants were tossed aside and he settled back down in her arms.   
He pressed his lips to her and whispered, “I should punish you for your insolence. Disrespecting a royal prince in such a fashion.” He bit her earlobe.   
She was practically panting now. “What…” sudden intake of breathe as he moved to her neck, “would you consider proper punishment?”   
His hands slid up her legs, pushing her thighs farther apart, as he found the entrance to the center of her body. He saw her eyes widen as she felt him push his way in. But not in fear. Shock, maybe. But there was a gleam of something rather intriguing within it.   
Be that as it may, she was still tight, and he wanted to make sure that she was comfortable before going any farther.   
“I want you to show me what you do when your all alone, touching yourself and calling my name,” he whispered, his Starkhaven accent thicker with his barely restrained desire. And like magic, his words had the desired affect he had hoped for. Her inner muscles convulsed, practically sucking him the rest of the way into her body.   
The orgasm did little to quench her need, as she practically begged for more. When he started moving, he tried for a slow pace. It didn't last long. Soon they were both breathing hard, lost in need. When her nails dug into his sides again, most likely drawing blood, he finally let himself go.  
Maker. He had missed sex.

 

*

Cullen thought he might lose his balance, he was so light headed. Apparently kissing was as dangerous as he’s been warned. To think he had lived so long without knowing what the feel of a woman’s lips on his was like. The idea that he may have had this moment with someone other than Amell made him slightly depressed.   
He pulled back to take a breathe. Her little sound of protest pleased him. And for a man not used to pleasure, it just added to the surreal atmosphere.  
Amell’s eyes were large in the soft light. She pressed her fingertip against his bottom lip, again. The affection she always did that with intrigued and humbled him. But there was just so much he didn't know. About himself. About… whatever this was between them. He didn't even know the proper word for it. He wanted things from her he couldn't name.   
She probably saw the confusion and uncertainty in his face.  
“Don’t think about it, Cullen.” Her hand moved to his cheek, cupping it much like he had done to her before. “If you want to kiss me, then kiss me. I will not object. If you want more than kissing…” She smiled. “All you have to do is ask.”  
That’s what he was afraid of. Maker preserve him, he didn't even know WHAT to ask.   
She redirected his attention back to her by taking his hand. “I’m aware of your, ahem, situation.”  
He felt his cheeks flame as his free hand went to the back of his neck in embarrassment. “After the circle… it was difficult. I didn’t… want anything. I’m not even sure where to, I mean what to… Maker. It’s just so very hard.  Amell tried to ignore that, and failed. She winked at him and said with absolute amusement, “I can help take care of it, if it’s so very hard.”  
Completely shocked, he found himself laughing as she grinned unrepentantly. Alistair had taught her to appreciate a bad joke in a tense situation. Not that she was going to tell Cullen that. Least of all now.   
“Cullen. I am a scholar and I was a teacher. I can answer whatever question you may have on this particular subject.”  
“I don’t want to seem like an idiot. Especially in front of you.”  
She pressed a kiss onto the fingers of the hand she still held. “There are no stupid questions, love. Just untested hypotheses.”   
“And how do you test a hypotheses?”  
If her grin could get any bigger, her face would have cracked. “Through thorough investigation and experimentation. Of course.”  
His moan of misery earned him another kiss. Which he didn't mind very much.  
“I’m going to take out the bed roll and set up for a space to sleep. If you like, we can lie down for a while and just be.” Her free hand slid over his heart again. “If anything happens, then it happens. If not, then it doesn’t. No pressure. And I will answer any question you may have. Or not. Up to you.”  
In the end, choosing to stay wasn't that difficult. They lay together, side by side, facing each other. His hand on her hip, while she fiddled with he laces of his shirt. This was new. Scary. And nice.   
“Tell me about love making.” She would never know how much courage it took for him to say those words. Or at least he hoped she wouldn’t.   
“How academic would you like me to be on the subject?”  
He smiled. “Not very. Only when appropriate.”  
“Ah. Very well then.” She sat up, and he followed suit. “Where would you like me to begin? I assume you understand the basic idea?”  
He cleared his throat. “Yes. I just know there’s more than the ‘basic idea’ involved and I don't want to initiate anything with you that I can’t follow through with or make you enjoy.”  
“Thinking about the pleasure of your partner is a very good step. As for more than basic; there are so many ways to make love that people invent new ones everyday. But we don't need to start with he advanced stuff just yet.”  
“Maker, no.”   
She took a deep breathe and addressed him in a direct manner. “Do you… see to your personal needs on a regular basis?”  
He just stared at her, at sea.  
“Maker, Cullen,” she said, exasperated. “Do you masterbate?”  
She had never seen a grown man choke on nothing but air before. It would have been so amusing if it hadn't also been so frustrating. She clapped him on the back until his breathing normalized.  
“Sorry,” he said. “I wasn't expecting that.”  
“I noticed. And you still haven't answered the question.”  
“I…” he swallowed. “It’s been difficult, since the circle.”  
She didn't say anything, just nodded her head in understanding. What the demons had done to him had affected him in many ways. She was going to attempt to help him passed a part of it. And hope that it didn't trigger something that made him revert back to that broken and angry man she remembered.  
Amell sat up straighter and took off her shirt. She was still wearing her underclothes, but Cullen seemed struck dumb by her cleavage.  
“These are breasts. They are not sexual organs, but secondary sex traits.” Her voice was serious. A teacher giving a lesson. “They are known to be sensitive to the touch and can aid in arousal if stimulated correctly. Would you like to touch them?”   
He had no idea how to voice his answer. All the moisture in his mouth had disappeared. She reached for his hand and he did not fight her as she pressed it against her breast, through the fabric of her bra.   
“Don’t press too hard,” she said. “Remember, sensitive.” He could feel the small shivers going through her frame. She was so soft. He wanted to see the rest of her, but didn't want to get ahead of himself. Having Amell like this was a fantasy come true. He was not going to ruin it by going too fast and messing something up.  
Amell reached for his shirt, and it joined hers on the stone floor. She pressed a kiss to his pectoral muscle, right over his heart. He gasped when she licked her way up to his neck. It was his turn to shiver.  
“You smell so good,” she said, as her hand slid up his belly to his chest. “This is a nipple,” she said, caressing it. “I have them as well. Would you like to see them?”  
He said yes in a barely audible voice and she rewarded him with a smile for his bravery. Her bra went the way of their shirts, her bare breast falling into his large callused hands. Their tips already hard. He very carefully rubbed his fingertips over them and heard her gasp.   
“Some women are able to orgasm just from having their nipples played with,” she said. Her voice was unsteady.  
“Are you one of them?”  
“Not as of yet, but we can certainly try.” He rubbed them gently again and she had to squeeze her thighs together. As he was getting more comfortable with his lesson, he was getting bolder, too. She let him touch her as he pleased, encouraging him with soft sounds and kisses to his shoulder. She had to hold on to his arms to steady herself. But there was no hurry here. The anticipation was sweet, not fierce.  
His hands slid away from her breasts, down and around her torso, cupping her back and pulling her in for another kiss. Amell pressed herself up against his naked skin, and grabbed one of his wrists. She lowered his hand until it was on her ass, and then encouraged him to squeeze.   
She had to hand it to him. Cullen was a quick learner. This lesson was going excellently well. She decided to tease him, and pulled away from his kiss a little, only letting him graze her lips briefly before pulling away and coming back again. She did this several times, and his breathing started to change. His heartbeat hammered against her skin. When she finally let him kiss her properly, he moaned his appreciation into the back of her throat. She would have laughed if her mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied.  
Kissing was less careful now. Their teeth bumped and his lips burned from little bites. Her soft skin was getting scratched from his stubble. They would both have physical reminders of this tomorrow.   
Cullen had to pull back. He couldn't catch his breathe and felt over heated. Like his heart was going to explode his chest. His lungs burned. His skin ached. He buried his face against her neck.  
“Amell, I think I'm dying,” he said, wanting the words to be light but his voice was too shattered for that. The dark sound reverberated through her and he felt her fingers dig into his skin in reaction. Her nails bringing a sharp pain that was more intriguing than uncomfortable.  
“We can stop, if you like.” There was so much want in her voice. Even he could recognize it. It helped him focus and he shook his head.   
She urged him back, onto the blankets. Giving him some air, as she pressed soft kisses to his chest and abdomen. Her hands swept over him in soothing motions. Her fingers found his damp curls and threaded through them gently. The gold color washed out silver in the soft light surrounding them.  
“Think of your templar training, love. Control, discipline, strength. All of those are very good qualities to rely on right now. At least for the time being.”   
“I cant seem to breathe properly,” he said. It felt almost like a panic attack and he didn't want to have one of those in the middle of this.  
“That only means that I’m doing my job properly, Cullen.” Her voice was so soothing. “If you weren't breathing funny, and your heart weren't racing, then I’d be wasting my time here. Instead of fighting it, why don't you try to concentrate on the lesson?”  
“I have to admit, your lessons are a lot more enjoyable than any I’ve had before.”   
She rubbed her cheek against his skin in amused affection. “Then allow me to continue.”  
Very slowly she got onto her knees and tuned his face to look at her. “I’m going to remove your pants and sit on your lap, all right?”  
He nodded his head silently, unable to look away from her.   
She reached for the tie to her blue leggings first, pushing them down her thighs and fidgeting until they were down her legs and discarded. Her bra had been the only small clothes she had put on after her bath. Cullen didn't want to stare, but he had the feeling he looked like a slack jawed idiot.   
She gave him some time to accustom himself to what a woman’s body looked like, letting him see her without shying away from his gaze. She worked on his own trousers, being as gentle as possible.   
“Here,” she said, grasping his hand and pulling it between her legs. She showed him how to touch her, explaining what each part of her womanhood was. Making suggestions to him for what to do and encouraging him when he got it right. “A woman’s vagina should not be tight. If your are doing your job correctly, her body should open wide to receive you.”   
She reached out to him and grasped his shoulders as she straddled his hips and sat on his lap. They held each other close and kissed, feeling each other’s warmth and skin. “You can hold me and touch me as much as you like,” she said. “If at any time you want to push me onto my back, I won’t fight you. Just take your time.”  
His arms wrapped around her as he tucked his face under her chin. “I’m not sure I have the courage to do that. You may need to help me, Amell.”   
She hid her amused smile in his blond curls.  
Gently she pushed him back and took control. F it had been anyone else, Cullen might have run screaming. But she was patient, and she was kind. When she took him into her body she made sure that he was all right with it, and that his fear had abated enough for him to enjoy it. With sweet words and gentle touches she healed the broken bits of him, and when he finally trembled his release, she held him close to her heart.   
That night, as he slept exhausted in his lover's arms, he did not dream of demons. Only of love.


End file.
